


Go Quiet

by WinterTheWriter



Series: The Oncoming Slut [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Fingering, First Time, Humor, Nipple Play, Smut, We've got it all folks, thasmin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 08:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17280377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTheWriter/pseuds/WinterTheWriter
Summary: Yasmin just wants to make sure the Doctor is okay after they've defeated the Dalek. Honestly, that's all. No other motives.





	Go Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> feast my children

“So…,” Yaz draws out slowly, swinging her forward-clasped hands as she smiles at the Doctor. The Doctor, bright and brilliant, smiles right back as she leans her hip on the console and raises her eyebrows. 

“So?” she echoes lightly. Yaz can’t help but turn her smile into a grin although she looks down to try and hide it. Clearing her throat, she looks back up and steps closer until she can mirror the Doctor’s position, less than a foot away. 

“Are you…alright?” 

The Doctor’s smile falters just slightly. “…’Course I’m alright, Yaz. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Well, I mean…that squid-thing. That Dalek. Seemed to rattle you a bit.” 

“Did it? Nah!” The Doctor’s nose scrunches adorably, face gone silly as she tries to keep her smile at the same time. “Nah, hardly my first go with them. We won, that’s what matters.” 

Yaz nods slowly in agreement, glancing away and pursing her lips. “….Never seen you kill anything before, Doctor.” 

For a few moments, the Doctor says absolutely nothing at all. When Yaz glances back at her in worry, the Doctor’s smile and sunshine had vanished, her face stony serious and eyes dark in their stead. “It’s not the first time,” the Doctor finally whispers, remorseless and resigned all at once. “Nowhere near the first. Nowhere near the worst.” 

And really, what do you say to that? Yaz trusts the Doctor with her life, truly, but even still the words send a shiver down her spine. It’s so easy to forget the Doctor isn’t human. It’s so easy to forget the lifetimes she’s survived, the people, the enemies. So instead, Yaz just unclasps her hands from each other and grabs onto the Doctor’s instead, holding tight as she smiles.

The Doctor smiles back, but it’s hesitant and muted. Yaz has never been so happy Ryan and Graham decided to go to bed early. 

Soon the silence is too thick to keep, their eye contact too heavy. “You’re not the bad guy, Doctor,” Yaz tells her. “I’m certain of that. No matter what you’ve done, you’ve done for good.”

“Are you so sure of that?” The Doctor asks ruefully, thumbs rubbing the backs of Yaz’s hand. It’s way too distracting. “You’ve only known me for a couple of months, Yaz.” Yaz just shrugs in return. She’s already gone way past the normal boundaries of friends — might as well go for broke at this point. 

Gathering all the bravado she’s sure she used to have, Yaz gently pulls away one of her hands in favor of softly cupping the Doctor’s cheek with it, her chest going warm at how the Doctor’s eyes go all gooey and light, how she leans into Yaz’s hand. “Call it a feeling,” Yaz whispers, before pressing forward and kissing the Doctor with every pent up feeling she’s been harboring these past weeks. 

Admittedly, she had expected the Doctor to reject her. She’d expected a nervous laugh and a joke before pretending it never happened. But perhaps the Doctor’s been just as lonely, wanted her just as much. 

The Doctor grabs onto her waist and spins them around, pressing Yaz against the console as she kisses her with unyielding passion, her hands both gentle and urgent as they slide up Yaz’s sides. Yaz moans into the kiss, hands tangling in the Doctor’s hair as she lets the Doctor press between her parted thighs, licking into her mouth. Liquid fire settles in her gut as the Doctor breaks their kiss with a smacking sound, mouthing down Yaz’s neck instead. “You want this?” The Doctor pants out, cupping Yaz’s breasts through her shirt and making her gasp and arch into those hands. “Tell me you want this.” 

“I want this,” Yaz groans out. She wraps her legs around the Doctor’s waist and pulls her in tighter, using her hold on that silky blonde hair to yank the Doctor’s head up until they’re eye to eye. Smiling breathlessly, Yaz presses their foreheads together. “I want you.” 

The smile she gets in return is brighter than the sun. 

~

Honestly, she’s not sure where their clothes went. It’s almost like they were never wearing any in the first place, but Yaz is certain that can’t be true. Regardless, the fevered dash from the console room to Yaz’s bedroom (it was closer, the Doctor argued) is a hazy memory that ends with the two of them naked and the Doctor looming over her on the bed, smiling almost maniacally. 

“Oh, Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor practically purrs, leaning down to kiss along the gentle slope of Yaz’s breast, “you are ravishing. There are so many wonderful things I want to do to you.” 

“Anytime you’d like to get started is good with me,” Yaz snarks back, voice a bit breathier and higher pitched than she’d like. But god, the Doctor’s lips are sinful. Paired with that lilting, soft voice, Yaz isn’t sure she’s going to survive this, but what a way to go. The Doctor only giggles a little before sucking her nipple into her mouth, tongue laving across the bud in slow circles as her fingers mirror the movements on Yaz’s other breast. Yaz’s back arches clean off the bed as she moans, high and needy, one hand grabbing onto the Doctor’s hair and the other wrapping around her back to keep her close. With a smile against her skin, the Doctor just barely lets her teeth scrape the sensitive flesh before switching to the opposite side to give it the same treatment.

Fuck, it’s too good. It’s way too good. Yaz’s cognitive abilities have already been hanging by a thread but she just knows this is going to ruin her in the very best of ways. She won’t be able to do a damn thing after the Doctor pulls this orgasm from her. 

“Wai-wait!” Yaz gasps out, just as the Doctor kisses down her stomach. The Doctor freezes immediately and pulls back, her smile dropping into a concerned frown. Yaz jolts up and grabs her, kissing that frown away. “You first,” she mumbles into her mouth. 

“Beg pardon?” The Doctor pulls back from the kiss to grin amusedly at her. Yaz playfully smacks her arm, making her giggle, and tackles her onto her back.  
“I /said/, you first,” she reiterates in a sing-song, hands greedily stroking and caressing every glorious inch of the Doctor’s body. “Once you get that mouth on me I’m done for until the morning, I’m sure of it. And I refuse to let that happen before I get to make you come.” All of this is perfectly logical, of course. 

“Well. If you /insist/,” the Doctor jokes, wriggling a little on the bed as she strokes some of Yaz’s hair from her eyes, “I won’t stop you.” 

“Good.”

“Good.”

“Right.”

“Mhmm.”

…..

Yaz resolutely ignores how smug the Doctor looks as she sets about her task. As it turns out, the Doctor’s nipples are /incredibly/ sensitive. Yaz spends a solid ten minutes sucking hard on each one, reveling in the breathless, desperate moans of pleasure and rolling hips it earns her. Adding teeth into the mix makes the Doctor’s voice go almost painfully high, head thrown back on the pillows and nose scrunched again, this time in bliss. It’s breathtaking. 

Almost regretfully, Yaz tears herself away from the heavy, supple swells of the Doctor’s breasts to lick and kiss down the toned expanse of her stomach. By the time she gets to those perfect thighs, they’re blotched pink and trembling with every needy pant the Doctor breathes out. If Yaz once imagined the Doctor would be reserved in bed, she’s never been so happy to be wrong. She settles on the flats of her upper arms between the Doctor’s spread legs and the sight of her sex, wet and pink and fluttering just slightly, makes her own throb with need. There’s just no reason for anything to look that good. 

Teasing her is just too easy. First kissing up one inner thigh, she lets her breath ghost over where the Doctor wants her most before kissing down the other, slow and deliberate. The Doctor groans and reaches down to stroke Yaz’s hair, coaxing her to look up and make eye contact. “Just remember,” she pants, eyes dark and hungry, “I’m next. It’ll be a lot easier for me to tease you back when I’ve already come.” 

“…Fair point,” Yaz responds, her own voice quiet and breathless. The Doctor grins. With a fond roll of her eyes, Yaz leans down and rolls the flat of her tongue down the Doctor’s slit, from clit to opening and back up again. The sound she gets in return is low and long and she responds with a hum, lips closing around the swollen bud in front of her as her tongue draws slow circles around it. 

Learning the Doctor in this most intimate way is fast becoming Yaz’s favorite thing to do. She learns that the Doctor’s most sensitive just above and to the right of her clit, and she takes her time writing her name there in slow, heavy-pressing licks. The Doctor’s hips twitch erratically as she whines and moans, her hands now fisted in the covers with white-knuckle grips. 

“Yaz, Yaz, /ah/— yes, yes, there— you’re so good, Yaz, so /good/, so good, a-hah, uh, uh,” the Doctor babbles, thrashing her head when Yaz presses two fingers into her, curling them upwards with every hard thrust as she moans into her skin. She can /feel/ the Doctor getting wetter, can taste the fresh rush of it right from the heady source. It’s addicting and amazing, just like the rest of her. Yaz watches the muscles of the Doctor’s stomach jump and quiver as she gets close and coaxes her along, encouraging her to grind herself onto Yaz’s tongue and fingers. 

Yaz’s free hand reaches up and pinches the Doctor’s nipple as she draws tighter and tighter circles around that spot near her clit, lips barely brushing against the actual bud. “Oh, /fuck/!” the Doctor exclaims, the very first curse Yaz has ever heard her mutter (she notes smugly). “Oh gods, please don’t stop, Yaz, don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop, I’m so close, ah—,” she bucks her hips as Yaz pushes in a third finger, fucking her with all the strength this angle affords her. The Doctor winds up tight, suddenly, the babble and moans cutting off abruptly as every muscle in her body shakes with tension and her mouth drops, eyebrows raised high, ecstasy written into every line of her face.

Earlier this same day, Yaz had said she didn’t like it when the Doctor would go quiet. She might have to make this an exception. 

The tension breaks with the silence as the Doctor keens out a loud, long string of moans, arching her back as she writhes through her orgasm with curled toes and fingers clamped tight on the covers, thighs clamped even tighter around Yaz’s (not complaining) head. 

Endless moments later, the Doctor releases Yaz from her vice grip and collapses back against the bed, chest heaving as she pants for breath and stares unseeingly up at the ceiling. Yaz grins to herself as she slowly pulls her fingers free from the Doctor’s body, licking them clean with a happy hum and moving up to rest her head on the Doctor’s shoulder. Instantly, the Doctor wraps her in an embrace, holding her tight and stroking down her back with soft kisses to her head. 

Yeah, Yaz could die happy right now. 

“I want you to sit on my face,” the Doctor tells her.

Okay, so she’ll die happy after that. 

~

She’s pretty sure she’s gonna have hand cramps for days after gripping the headboard this long, but the Doctor’s relentless assault on her clit is by far the more pressing matter. Yaz’s head is tossed back as she helplessly rolls her hips towards the pleasure, moaning highly as the Doctor fucks her tongue up into her while gripping her asscheeks tightly for “balance.” Yaz definitely made the right call earlier. She can barely remember her own name at the moment, her rapidly-forming orgasm eclipsing all other brain functions. 

Yaz isn’t one to talk during the throes of pleasure but that doesn’t mean she isn’t loud. Every breath escapes as a moan or a pant, the sounds the Doctor pulls from her getting closer and closer to outright sobs as she’s worked over. The Doctor hums into her, /into/ her, before sucking hard on her clit and bringing one hand under to fuck two fingers into the wet, quivering heat. She finds Yaz’s g-spot with ridiculous precision on every thrust, and usually Yaz would be embarrassed about finishing so quickly, but she comforts herself with the knowledge that the Doctor has literally centuries of experience. 

With a desperate, hoarse cry of the Doctor’s name, Yaz shakes apart, grinding her hips without any rhythm or thought as pleasure soaks through her. 

Somehow, she ends up back on the bed without kneeing the Doctor in the face or falling off the side. With gentle shushing sounds, the Doctor wraps her back up in her arms and pulls the covers over them, and Yaz tangles their legs together and kisses her own taste off the Doctor’s lips. “You beautiful, wonderful thing,” the Doctor murmurs into her mouth. “I am so lucky to hold you.” 

And really, that’s just a ridiculous thing to say to someone unless you’re TRYING to make them fall in love with you on the spot, so Yaz just makes a sleepy little noise and presses her face into the Doctor’s neck, getting them as close as possible. With a giggle and what feels like a grin against Yaz’s forehead, the Doctor turns the lights off and holds her to sleep. 

~

“So, Yaz,” Graham starts awkwardly the next morning, smiling at her over his bowl of cereal. The Doctor innocently sips her tea next to him. Ryan has fallen asleep on the tabletop. 

“Yes, Graham?” Yaz responds, wide-eyed and very much hoping to look as unassuming as possible. 

“I, er, think you must’ve been doin’ laundry last night, ‘cause I found your bra in the hallway outside your room. Tossed it in the laundry room for you, no worries, just wanted to let you know.” 

“Oh. I. Well. I. Th…thank…yo—,”

“Not laundry night, Graham,” the Doctor cuts in, smiling oh-so-innocently at him. “That bra was mine.”

Graham chokes on his cereal.


End file.
